


and i am still breathing

by Val_Creative



Series: GoT Drabble-Palooza 2019 [43]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Blood, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Heavy Angst, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Not Canon Compliant, Post-War, Season/Series 08, Triple Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 12:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18873511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: A coating of bloodied gore dries over Jon’s hands. He sits in front of the war table emptied of its pieces, his head hanging low.





	and i am still breathing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Glove23](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glove23/gifts).



> WE GOT EMOTIONAL UP IN HERE. Requested by glove23: "JonTormund, platonic JonArya; Jon and Arya meet after the battle is over and she gets a bolt in the heart by one of their own. Parallel Ned and Lyanna's death." I ADJUSTED THE WORDING OF YOUR PROMPT BUT WE GOT THIS. I'm hurting. I'm hurting a lot. Okay yes thanks for reading and any comments/thoughts are very welcomed!
> 
> ((Want a request for GoT? I'm doing 100-500 word drabbles of any ship + any prompt until S8 ends. Rules: you need to comment here and provide a ship and prompt, as well if you want NSFW or SFW. The only requests I'll be looking at is if you ALSO commented about the fic you just read as well. It's only fair. You came to this fic to read it and me doing something for you later on is a sweet bonus!))

 

 

*

A coating of bloodied gore dries over Jon's hands.

He sits in front of the war table emptied of its pieces, on his own, his head hanging low.

 

_Most of the snow had been darkened and melted away, as Jon clutched over his injured side, heading into the more open grounds of the battlefield._

_With the sheer amount of numbers, it was a victory all the same. He approached Davos hushing with one of the bottlers, as this man around Davos's age started to panic and gasp, waving his crossbow frantically._

 

Tormund observes Jon's vacant expression. The hot tears gleaming in Jon's beard, spilling freely from his dark, soulful eyes. "My poor little crow…" Tormund mutters, reaching out and one-arm hugging Jon with an unusual amount of gentleness.

 

_"I told you I wasn't no soldier!" the man hollered. Jon went silently past them, taking in the sight of red. "I didn't mean to do it—!"_

_The misfired bolt protruded from Arya's sternum, crusted with ice and blood, shuddering._

_She inhaled with lots of difficulty, eyes rolling faintly. Jon fell hard to his hands and knees, losing all other sensation, grabbing onto her shoulders. "Arya," he croaked out, staring wide-eyed, helpless. She had been fine only a moment ago, crossing the field, grinning proudly in Jon's direction._

 

Jon's fingers touch shakily over the layers of rabbit pelts and furs. He feels Tormund lifting him to his feet.

 

_"Promise me…"_

 

Both of Tormund's hands come as solid, unyielding heat. He needs this. Jon moves himself in, breathing raggedly, his lips slide-scraping and opening to the pressure of the other man kissing him deeper, murmuring to him like Jon's a fretting child.

 

_"… you'll take care of Gendry…" Arya said quietly, crimson dribbling out of her nose and mouth. "Promise me…"_

 

 

 

_"Promise me, Ned… …"_

*

 


End file.
